Episode 18a, VS7.5 - Age of Consent
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: It's decision time on Voyager: Naomi is pressing Icheb for an engagement; Harry wants Marla to become his honey; Janeway is trying to forget being Chakotay's honey when she couldn't remember she shouldn't be; and B'Elanna decides that being pregnant for 9


Episode 18  
Age of Consent I  
  
By Jamelia  
  
Teaser  
He was basking in a haze of contentment, supported by silken cascades of   
reddish-gold filaments. She floated nearby. He could not see her face but could   
sense her presence. As long as they were near each other, he knew, all would be   
well.  
Her sweetly musical voice murmured into his ear, bringing the first stirrings of   
a subtle excitement which disturbed his peaceful mood, yet, paradoxically, also   
had the potential to increase his tranquil emotions. But what were her words? He   
could barely hear them, let alone distinguish what they were, yet they had the   
power to transform him into another sort of being. He could sense being swept   
away with the changes but was powerless to stop them.  
His heart began to race as soft lips bent towards his, touching them gently,   
fervently. Ethereal hands gently massaged his palms. From the tips of his own   
fingers a warmth began to flow, increasing with every pulse. Up his arms,   
suffusing through his body and limbs, he became warmer and warmer every second   
until tendrils of hair, moistened by the sheen that appeared upon his skin, drew   
tighter, binding him in their grip. He could barely move air into his lungs.   
With every breath the tangle bound him more deeply. His heart pounded harder and   
harder until he was strangled by the battering rush of blood throughout his   
being.  
Fantasies of delights, as yet unknown in his experience, insinuated into his   
consciousness. Simultaneously, he was exhilirated and terrified by the   
perceptions now assaulting him. What was the cause of this bizarre dichotomy?   
Why was he as apprehensive it would end as he was that it would continue, until   
his entire body exploded into fragments of agonized bliss?  
The thrill of fearful excitation washed through him, carrying him away beyond   
the ability to use reason or discipline to control what was happening to him. In   
a matter of moments he would hurtle upon a rocky shore; his body would be   
painfully crushed into ecstasy and he would lose himself at that moment. His   
only chance of survival was to grab hold of the lifeline that seemed so near,   
yet impossibly far away. Through waves of torment he sought a path to salvation;   
finally he thought he had found it. The lifeline was the voice which knocked its   
way into his awareness, calling him by name and commanding him to . . .  
"Get up, Sleepyhead!"  
For a moment Icheb was so disoriented by his visions of Naomi, so realistic had   
been his dream, he could have sworn she was there with him. Guiltily, he tried   
to purge himself of the images tumbling through his mind. Their effect upon him   
was as uncomfortable physically as it was sublime emotionally. If he could only   
shake them off . . .  
"Icheb! Wake up! You're late for your shift!"  
Icheb startled fully awake. No wonder he thought Naomi was there with him. She   
was standing over him, shaking his shoulder. Shaking him awake. At the same time   
she was scolding him, she was laughing hysterically. As glad as he was to see   
her, he was also extremely uncomfortable to have her near to him so soon after   
those passionate visions. He could not get out of bed with her there, since his   
pajamas would advertise, not hide, the degree to which they had affected him.  
Icheb had what Tom Paris called a "hunch." Today was going to be a wild day.  
  
Act One  
  
"You have all the data you need?" Kathryn Janeway looked towards her first   
officer seated on the couch, where morning light spilling through her ready room   
window highlighted the silver strands that were usually fairly well buried   
within his thick black hair.  
"Enough. I'd prefer to have more exact figures, but it's clear that kolonder ore   
is particularly abundant throughout the northern continent."  
"If we can get them for you, I'll contact your shuttle by subspace. Even if we   
take a substantial supply, they should have all they need in the future if they   
discover the same technology."  
"They won't even know they might need kolonder ore in the future until we start   
asking about it, given their current levels. Isn't that stretching the Prime   
Directive, at the very least? If not breaking it?"  
"I don't know, Chakotay. But if we don't ask for it, how can we get it? They're   
just as eager to get us off their 'Treaty Planet,' as we are to leave, and Joe   
Carey's slipstream drive is our best hope to get home--and soon. We have to take   
our chances that the admirals at home will see it that way--as long as we don't   
share any actual technology, we should be all right."  
"How do you want me to respond if they ask us about sharing our technology? I'm   
sure the subject will come up."  
"Explain the Prime Directive the best that you can and tell them that knowing   
the ore has some sort of use they do not yet know about is as far as we can go.   
If the Minenne, Grevel-Ash, Vordai, and Gunruth'u all work together, that's as   
much of a hint as they'll need. And if they don't work together, they're likely   
to destroy each other sooner rather than later and it won't be a problem. In any   
case, we don't have a choice. We need the ore. Do the best you can to be   
evasive. Improvise." His eyes met hers as she spoke, eliciting a thrill of   
excitement that she immediately suppressed. There was a time and place for the   
musings following that emotion would engender; this was neither.  
"Shall I tell them a story?" His eyes danced.  
"By all means, Commander," she laughed. A few seconds later the enormity of   
taking her leave from him caught her again. Soberly, she added, "Please be   
careful, Chakotay."  
"I will. No abductions this trip. No one would dare, after last time!"  
"I still wish you were taking the Delta Flyer for this trip."  
"We'll be fine in the Sacajawea, Kathryn."  
"Do you think there's really anything wrong with the Delta Flyer's navigational   
array, Chakotay?"  
"You're not accusing our chief engineer of being possessive about the ship her   
husband usually flies, are you?" he asked, clearly stifling a smile.  
"Well, it's certainly convenient that navigation, one of the systems on board a   
ship that's relatively radiation-free to fix, is what's 'out of commission,'   
don't you think?"  
"She's a bundle of nerves, Kathryn. Let her tinker with something before she   
goes crazy. And it's better the Flyer stays here anyway. The transporters on our   
other shuttles can't cut through the interference from the kolonder ore, and   
Voyager's system is still down for all intents and purposes. We don't know   
enough about the possibility of danger to our crew from seismic activity to   
discount the possibility. In an emergency, the Delta Flyer may be needed more   
here."  
"True enough."  
It was well known that as kolonder transformed into benamite crystals and then   
broke down into an inert substance, subatomic vibrations created harmonics that   
had been known to cause earthquakes in areas with extensive deposits. In fact,   
seismic activity in what should have been stable geological areas had been one   
of the clues that piqued the interest of researchers from various civilizations,   
who finally realized the substance could provide power for an advanced   
propulsion drive. On Voyager's travels, intriguing hints that the slipstream   
drive, despite their lack of success with it on their first try almost three   
years ago, might evenutally work for Voyager. The discovery of large deposits of   
kolonder ore on New Hope provided the opportunity that Joe Carey's research   
needed to try again. With sufficient kolander to maintain their supplies of the   
rapidly decaying benamite crystals via his new technique, not to mention the   
need to practically rebuild Voyager's warp engines anyway thanks to the crash   
landing, refitting for another attempt with the slipstream drive now made sense.   
The transwarp experiment may have been less successful than they'd hoped, but   
this was the crew that never gave up. They would make it work this time.  
And if it didn't, they'd just try something else. Kathryn Janeway may have been   
proudest of that. If will alone could do it, Voyager's crew had the will to get   
it done.  
Chakotay added, almost as an afterthought, "I hope the Treaty World governing   
body is willing to talk to me about granting us permission to mine the ore,   
instead of insisting on talking to you personally . . ."  
"They'd better, Commander! If they're serious about developing their own   
Federation of Planets, they need to learn to delegate responsibility."  
"And if not, you'll be the one to teach it to them," he said dryly.  
"I'm sure you can handle the job, Commander. Just let Harry do the driving . . .   
I don't want you to spend any more time filling out claim forms."  
As he laughed, she mentally added, 'and come home quickly and safely to us . . .   
to me.'  
Her heart ached with longing for what she knew could not be. How she wished she   
could go with Chakotay to request clearance for mining the precious ore instead   
of sending Harry, or perhaps could even go along with them again. The last time   
the three had left to go on a diplomatic mission, however, it had gone so   
terribly wrong. They'd been gone for weeks, lost to their crew, derelict of   
their duties through no fault of their own. The Gunruth'u practice of abducting   
beings from their three neighboring worlds had been brought to light because   
they unwisely kidnapped Janeway, Chakotay, and Harry Kim on that occasion. Since   
then, the Oligarchy had been quiet and exceedingly cooperative with all of their   
neighbors. They had had little choice, in the face of their former enemies   
uniting against them.  
Terribly wrong in some ways--but, oh, so right in others! It depended upon one's   
point of view, she thought. For six wonderful weeks she had been free from the   
exigencies of command. She could be Kathryn to his Chakotay without any   
reservation, since her true status as his superior officer had been erased from   
their minds.  
Now, those weeks must be remembered as if the isle on which they had spent them   
had been as outside of time as they had been in an out-of-the-way place. She had   
compartmentalized her memories of New Earth in much the same way for the past   
five years, but the exile she'd spent with Chakotay on New Earth had been a very   
different experience from life on the island on Gunruth'u.  
On New Earth, despite their eventual acceptance of the fact that they could   
never return to Voyager (a false assumption, as it turned out), Chakotay and   
Kathryn had never taken the final steps to physical intimacy. Perhaps a better   
way to put that would be to say they had not yet taken that step, for clearly   
they would have, had they remained on New Earth for much longer. On the   
Oligarch's island, with their memories wiped of their true connection to each   
other or their roles in normal life, they had been free to consummate the   
attraction they had always felt towards each other. She could acknowledge that   
fact freely to herself now, if not directly to him.  
She remembered every precious moment of the time Chakotay and Kathryn had spent   
together as lovers and as partners in adventure. Those memories were not easy to   
live with, however. Total abstinence, she had always known, would be the only   
way she could maintain the iron control required of her by her passionate   
nature. Now that she knew exactly what she was missing, it was difficult to bear   
each solitary day of separation from that life; it was even harder to say   
good-bye to him, even if his absence were to last for only a few days, if all   
went as planned.  
When had anything ever gone as planned since they'd arrived in the Delta   
Quadrant?  
His soft, "Anything else, Captain?" brought her back to the present. As   
professionally as he held his posture while he sat before her, PADD in hand, the   
tone of his voice and the look in his eye spoke the truth. He was remembering   
the island outside of time, too. It was no easier for him to say good-bye to   
her.  
"Hurry back, Commander."  
"I will," he said. If his voice was a little huskier than usual, well, what of   
that? Hers was, too.  
=^=  
As Icheb blinked his eyes and wrapped the thermal blanket higher around his   
neck, Naomi asked, sternly, but with an affectionate smile, "Are you finally   
awake, Icheb?" Her voice was severe, but she was smiling at Icheb   
affectionately. "I'm not surprised you overslept. It's so cold out here at   
night. Why are you still living in this tent when just about everyone else went   
back to their quarters weeks ago! No wonder you can't get up in the morning."  
He had explained it to her in detail before. Sleeping in the tent brought him   
closer to the natural world of plants and animals. While he was as appreciative   
of the benefits of modern technology as anyone on Voyager, a part of him   
responded viscerally to this other world, antithetical to what the Borg had   
tried to make him.  
Walking home to his tent at the end of Beta shift, the sight of the full glory   
of stars through the atmosphere of this unspoiled world could snatch away his   
breath. Watching the sun rise over the steppes at dawn, seeing a small burrowing   
animal popping up out of his home in the soil, or following the sweep of avian   
wings sailing upon the air currents far above his head: all of these nourished   
the soul of his biological being with something for which he had no name, and   
perhaps needed none.  
He knew it was essential for him to experience these things, since he had little   
memory from before his assimilation of such perceptions. Perhaps he had simply   
been too young for the wonder of creation to have fully registered with him.   
While he had enjoyed watching the stars with his parents in that short,   
bittersweet interlude with them before Voyager rescued him from being   
assimilated by the Borg a second time, his native world had been so ravaged by   
Borg attacks that natural beauty had been nowhere in evidence when he was with   
them. His native race the Brunali could teach Federation scientists much about   
biotechnology, however. Surely, they must have become fascinated by the variety   
and ingenuity of their environment at some point in their history to have become   
so determined to learn ways to transform genomes to their own use. They had   
certainly succeeded in this endeavor. Icheb felt that learning to appreciate   
this, as much as any Starfleet Academy course, was a key part of his education.   
Neglecting to hunt for his own identity and place in the cosmos would put him at   
risk of losing something the Borg had already tried to steal from him.  
Some of Voyager's crew encouraged him in this search for who this person Icheb   
really was. Although born of the Brunali race to be their weapon against the   
Borg (which he had actually become, although not in the way his natural parents   
and race had expected), for all intents and purposes Icheb now belonged to   
another race. He anticipated living in the Federation, particularly the part   
dominated by human beings, for the rest of his life. He felt a need to encourage   
this nascent "humanity" of his by a return to nature.  
Although Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tom Paris did not, on the surface,   
share a taste for many of the same things, both had mentored Icheb in their own   
ways. Chakotay's was by example, since he had maintained his home in New Hope,   
for as many days as he had spent there, in a "lodge" located near Icheb's   
campsite. Tom, a voracious reader from his earliest years, had suggested Icheb   
explore literature, from essays by Henry David Thoreau and the   
Transcendentalists to novels like "The Last of the Mohicans" and "Dances With   
Wolves." The novels had also been available in twentieth-century cinematic   
versions which had drawn Tom to their texts. The protagonists in the fiction had   
adopted a new way of life they deemed better than their old one. For obvious   
reasons, this struck a chord in the Delta Quadrant native who was bound for a   
future spent in the Alpha Quadrant.  
It did not escape Icheb's notice that many of the titles Tom had recommended   
were filled with Native American lore and values. Icheb saw no sign that either   
man had ever realized this connection, although Icheb thought the commander   
should have some inkling of it. Having learned of Tom's attempt to save the   
water world of Monea a year before Icheb came on Voyager, Icheb would have   
thought Tom's reverance for life would be more widely known, despite the pilot's   
studied air of irreverance.  
What is obvious to others often escapes the notice of others, however, as Icheb   
had also learned. His own earnest attempts to describe his personal odyssey to   
his Naomi had been beyond her ken. So, he said only, "I like it out here."  
"I worry about you getting sick from the cold," Naomi fussed.  
"I have lots of blankets. If I became really cold, I'd come back inside Voyager.   
It gets pretty warm in here in the daytime, you know." The four-man tent,   
occupied now only by Icheb, was nestled against the north face of a small hill a   
kilometer or so from where Voyager had come to rest upon the surface of New   
Hope. The rocky outcrop sheltered the tent from the prevailing winds and   
absorbed additional heat while it basked in the light of the sun all day,   
although it did tend to get very cold late at night. A heater issued from the   
survival stores helped; and when certain thoughts and dreams came to him, the   
cold night air had an effect that was very much like the "cold shower." Tom had   
assured him this was very helpful when visions of one's beloved became too   
real--as they had on other nights before this. Now, with the object of his   
desire right there before him, Icheb did not feel equipped to get up in front of   
her. Not at the moment.  
"Are you getting up now, or will I have to drag you out of bed?" Naomi demanded.  
Icheb grimaced. Somehow, he had known she wouldn't make this easy. Tom had also   
taught him that the direct approach, risking possible hurt feelings, sometimes   
had to be taken. Icheb suspected that B'Elanna Torres had taught his mentor that   
particular lesson. It seemed appropriate now.  
"Yes, Naomi, I am getting up now--if you will please leave me alone long enough   
to get dressed."  
Naomi's expression became thoughtful, but she flipped open the tent flap and   
walked back outside without commenting. Once he was sure she was safely out of   
the tent, he sighed softly and arose to prepare for the day to come.  
Just because she was no longer in the tent did not mean Naomi had actually gone   
far away, however. From just outside the tent, her voice came to him almost as   
clearly as if she were still inside. "You'd better hurry. We've got to get to   
the Sacajawea by 0900."  
"The Sacajawea? Isn't Lieutenant Kim taking us in the Delta Flyer?" Icheb asked   
as he stepped into his pants.  
"Nope. Lieutenant Torres found a glitch in the Flyer's navigational system last   
night. Don't ask me why she was checking over the Delta Flyer after midnight in   
her condition! But whatever she found, she convinced the captain to ground the   
Flyer until she's had a chance to fix it--by herself. 'No one else has time,'   
she told the captain."  
"She's right, Naomi. No one else can be spared to make any repairs on a shuttle   
right now. Not when Voyager still needs so much work." He grunted the last   
sentence from the effort of pulling on his boots.  
"Especially if there's nothing really wrong with the Flyer at all," Naomi agreed   
smugly, a mischievous lilt in her voice. "I think the real reason she found a   
'problem' is that she doesn't trust Commander Chakotay and Harry to get the   
Flyer back in time to catch the next data stream transmission."  
Icheb smiled. The data stream transmissions had become something he also looked   
forward to. "You can't blame her. She expects to have special news to send this   
time."  
"Uh-huh. Hmmm. Maybe not going in the Flyer isn't so bad after all. Traveling to   
the work site will be a tight squeeze in the Sacajawea."  
Icheb could almost hear her grin. Vorik, Marla Gilmore, Naomi, and Icheb had all   
been assigned to work at the site of the kolonder ore deposits on the northern   
continent today. That ore was the precursor to the short-lived substance   
benamite, and having sufficient benamite on hand was necessary for Voyager to   
use their new slipstream technology successfully.  
As he pulled on his cadet's tunic, he felt another pair of hands pulling the   
back down to his waist before slipping up his back and stroking his bare skin.   
Startled, Icheb turned and jumped back a step. Naomi was standing there,   
grinning up at him. He tried to be stern about her coming in unannounced, but he   
couldn't be for long. He gave her a soft kiss on the mouth. Naomi threw her arms   
around his neck and hugged him tightly, returning his kiss until he was   
breathless.  
"Wouldn't you like to begin every day this way, Icheb?" she asked.  
He should have known she would turn the conversation to this subject quickly.   
Lately, they spoke of it daily. "I do not think your mother would approve,   
Naomi."  
"Oh, Icheb. You know very well what I mean. Mom will be okay about it once we   
set a date to marry. Prixin is coming, you know. Day Seven would be a great time   
to make the announcement."  
"Naomi, I would really like to, but you aren't even seven years old yet. I don't   
think it's a good idea to make a commitment before the . . ."  
". . . traditional Ktarian age of consent," she said for him. "You always say   
that whenever we talk about this!"  
"We wouldn't talk about it if you didn't always bring it up." Icheb tried to   
keep the sharpness out of his voice, but he was not totally successful.  
"Icheb, don't be angry with me. I just want everything settled between us. We   
are going to get married, you know. It's just a matter of time."  
Icheb didn't know what to say. He knew how he felt, but he also knew how a lot   
of other people felt about someone as young as Naomi getting married--no matter   
how quickly the children of her father's race reached maturity. He resolved to   
discuss it with Tom. Somehow, although he joked around a lot while they talked,   
Tom always helped Icheb understand things better after they had a   
"heart-to-heart," as Tom put it.  
Thinking about talking with Tom helped him realize what he needed to say to the   
girl he loved. "There's no rush, Naomi. We've got plenty of time."  
Act two  
As his wife walked into Sickbay, Tom wanted to blurt out to her, "Hey, Babe, how   
are you feeling?" but thought better of it. The last thing B'Elanna needed right   
now was anyone asking that particular question, even her husband. As it was she   
usually bit his head off whenever he slipped and called her "Babe." Instead, he   
stopped after the "Hey"--the way he usually did.  
"Hey, yourself. Anything exciting on the agenda for today?"  
"Nothing much. Just covering Sickbay for a while. The Doc is playing golf."  
"Now, wait a minute! How is he managing that? The holodecks are still off line!"  
Tom shook his head. "Who needs a holodeck on a planet that has gently rolling   
steppes of grass with a few sand pits scattered here and there? All the Doc   
needed was his golf bag and a shovel to dig out a few holes. Nine holes, to be   
exact. In another week, he'll have the back nine ready to play. If we're here   
much longer, he'll be organizing tournaments--which he will arrange to win, of   
course."  
"Just great! I'm ready to deliver any minute and my doctor is out playing   
games!"  
"No problem, B'Elanna. Even our poor, underpowered transporters can grab his   
mobile emitter and get him here at a moment's notice. Besides, I'm here, at your   
service. I can take care of almost any medical emergency, including the birthing   
of babies. You can count on me, Chief." As much as she hated most of his pet   
names, being reminded of her position on Voyager never bothered B'Elanna. Tom   
couldn't quell the feeling of self-satisfaction that came over him as he   
remembered that fact--or as her slowly emerging grin confirmed it. "And is my   
ambulance almost ready, by the way?"  
B'Elanna's grin froze. She looked at him blankly for a minute before she could   
recognize the reference. "Soon," she said vaguely, flapping her hand a bit   
before using it to pat her tummy possessively.  
Tom had a hunch the Delta Flyer would be fixed very soon--just as soon as Harry   
and Chakotay left on their mission to the four planets in the sector. He would   
have liked to have gone on that one. It would be nice to be a pilot again for   
once. He'd feel a little more in control of the situation, too.  
None of the crew he'd spoken to was very happy about Harry and Chakotay going   
away again so soon after getting back from their imprisonment by the Gunruth'u.   
At least Captain Janeway wasn't going with them this time. Besides, Tom's place   
was definitely here right now, so close to B'Elanna's delivery of their   
daughter--a thought which made him realize why his wife had wandered in when, by   
her own admission, she still had an engineering job to finish.  
"Not to complain about your granting me the pleasure of your company, Lieutenant   
Torres, but just why have you come to Sickbay? Do you miss me?"  
B'Elanna swung her considerable bulk onto one leg, one hand perched in the   
"Janeway position" on what had once been and would some day again be her   
waist--while the other caressed her belly in a very uncaptainlike manner. "Well,   
I . . . um . . . I was just wondering if you could check me again to see if my   
cervix is effaced any more? I was feeling a few . . . twinges, a little while   
ago. I don't want to go crawling around inside the Flyer again until I'm sure   
that nothing is about to happen. With the baby, I mean."  
"Ah," he said noncommittally. Crawling about in the Delta Flyer was one of her   
favorite things to do, second only to mucking about with Voyager's engines--a   
pastime which, regrettably, was denied her in her present state. If Tom had had   
any doubts about how desperately B'Elanna wanted her pregnancy to be over,   
tacitly admitting that she'd rather go through labor than play with her engines   
would have dispelled them quite definitively.  
The whirling medical tricorder he waved before her told him its tale. Bracing   
himself, Tom said as brightly as he could muster, "Good news, B'Elanna. You're   
totally effaced."  
"And I'm starting to dilate more?" she asked, hopefully.  
"Well, no. Not really. You're still at 2.5 centimeters . . ." At the sight of   
her face as it descended into storminess, he added, "but you know how quickly   
these things can go sometimes . . ."  
". . . for humans and Klingons alike," she finished for him. "I know, I know!   
The Doctor says that every time I come in here. Now you're doing it, too!"  
"B'Elanna, what can I say? I'm just the guy who reads the tricorder. And I'm   
your husband. I want it to happen soon, too, believe me!"  
B'Elanna sighed, almost reluctantly, "I know."  
"Why don't you go keep yourself busy on the Flyer, fixing the navigational array   
for me. I'll be there to help you as soon as the Doctor gets back. I promise.   
Okay?"  
"It's a good thing I love you so much, you know that, don't you, Flyboy? You're   
the one that did this to me! I've been known to cut the hearts out of people who   
have caused me less trouble."  
"That's my B'Elanna! Almost back to normal! And you will be totally back to   
normal very soon, I promise you, with one little change. You'll be a mother as   
well as a chief engineer."  
Puckering up for a quick kiss, Tom was surprised by the way she threw her arms   
around his neck in a big hug. Carefully moving his body to one side in order to   
get as close as possible to his wife while his daughter still clung stubbornly   
to the dependent gestational stage, Voyager's chief pilot and primary field   
medic/doctor's assistant provided the only comfort he could to his   
less-than-patient patient.  
'It will be over sooner than you think,' he told himself. His wife wasn't the   
only one who needed comforting.  
=^=  
As Naomi had said, it was a tight squeeze for those riding to the northern   
continent in the Sacajawea. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't one of the ones   
riding in it.  
As Naomi was stepping into the hatch of the shuttle, Commander Tuvok appeared,   
summoning her to her first formal class with him since he had returned to   
Voyager with Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. Icheb could   
see from Naomi's rigid lips and the stiff way she held herself how upset and   
angry she was that her assignment had been changed, but wisely, she had   
controlled herself. Had she lost her temper, she would not have been able to go   
on the assignment anyway. Starfleet cadets obeyed orders, even if they were   
attending special, informal classes thousands of light years from San Francisco,   
Earth. It may even have been the primary lesson Voyager's tactical/security   
officer and former Academy instructor had actually been teaching her.  
As a result, however, Icheb was squatting on the floor behind the Sacajawea's   
pilot's seat, next to Naomi's replacement Bill Telfer, and facing the bench on   
which Lieutenant Harry Kim sat with Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore. That was also   
an unexpected change. Although Harry was still going to continue on the   
diplomatic mission with Commander Chakotay after they dropped off Icheb's team   
at the northern work site, Vorik was now the one sitting in the co-pilot's seat   
next to Commander Chakotay. The commander was piloting the small craft   
northward.  
They had barely gotten the shuttle airborne before the first officer insisted   
upon taking over the helm from Harry Kim. Summoning Ensign Vorik to be his   
temporary co-pilot, Chakotay sent Harry to sit with Marla, saying, "You'll be   
apart from each other for several days, Harry. Take advantage of a little time   
together before then."  
Everyone on board Voyager knew that Marla and Harry were "an item," as the   
Delaney sisters put it. Icheb wasn't sure if they were a couple in all   
ways--especially in the way that Naomi wished to be with Icheb--but it wasn't   
difficult to see that Marla was extremely unhappy about another separation from   
Lieutenant Kim so soon after his return from imprisonment by the Gunruth'u.   
There were no public displays of affection, of course--not while they were on   
duty. The two young officers sat next to each other with only their shoulders   
and hips touching, quietly speaking about their respective assignments. On the   
surface, they were simply two colleagues whiling away the time until they would   
each go their own way to complete their duties. That was on the surface.  
Under the surface, however, Icheb could perceive Marla's distress in the redness   
of the rims of her eyes. She had been crying recently, and on several occasions,   
a seemingly innocuous phrase from Harry made her look suddenly away from him or   
a catch come into her voice as she replied. Considering what had happened so   
recently, no diplomatic mission in this sector of space could safely be called   
"no big deal" or "routine." On the other hand, a comment like "when we get back   
home to Earth" seemed relatively innocent to Icheb but not, evidently, to Marla.   
Icheb would have to ask Tom about it in a few days, after the return to Voyager.  
Thinking about talking with Tom brought a recent conversation to mind--about   
Commander Chakotay's record piloting shuttles. It wasn't particularly comforting   
to be riding in the Sacajawea. Apparently the first officer had crashed the   
Sacajawea at least once before, although obviously not beyond repair. Icheb had   
to wonder if the Commander had deliberately waited until he was out of the   
captain's sight to take over, just so she wouldn't worry about them. Icheb   
wished that he knew a little less about the commander's piloting record when a   
sudden bump of air turbulence bounced the top of his head against the control   
panel behind him. Perhaps Marla was upset because she knew the commander was   
going to be the pilot for the diplomatic mission, not Harry?  
Not being able to see anything but clouds rushing by viewports made Icheb feel   
even more out of control of his situation than he usually would as a shuttle   
passenger. If Tom were the shuttle pilot, Icheb might even have had a quick turn   
at the controls while Tom instructed him on possible problems and ways to   
counter them. He was a good teacher as well as a good friend. The letters from   
Admiral and Mrs. Paris meant a lot to Icheb, even more when he realized that   
their son had been the one to suggest to his parents that Icheb would like to   
receive a little mail from the Alpha Quadrant. Icheb didn't know if he could   
ever fully express his gratitude to the entire Paris family, although he was   
beginning to think he might have the opportunity to try.  
As the small craft swung about, Icheb caught a glimpse of gleaming white   
mountains reflected in sunlit water. They must be coming to Tall Girl Mountain,   
as Tom had dubbed it on their first survey mission. The peak was certainly tall,   
although Tom's name--which had stuck with everyone--had more to do with the fact   
that a pair of foothills at its base had an undeniably "busty" look, as Tom had   
explained to Icheb that day. B'Elanna's acerbic "You see busty girls in   
everything, don't you, Paris?" when they'd told her about it upon their return   
had confused Icheb at first. Was she really angry with Tom? When the two had   
laughed together and walked off arm-in-arm, however, Icheb observed how   
comfortable they were with each other. As much as he loved Naomi, Icheb couldn't   
say they had reached that stage of understanding and accepting each other yet.   
He wondered if it simply took more time, or was Ensign Wildman really right   
about the two of them--they weren't really ready to commit the rest of their   
lives to one another. A few days together, as they had expected when they had   
received this assignment a few days ago, would have been nice, however. He had   
been looking forward to "camping out" with her as part of the team ordered to   
finish mapping the kolonder ore deposits and setting up the mining camp to be   
used if Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim were successful in their mission.  
When the shuttle touched down safely, Icheb found himself expelling a sigh of   
relief. He helped Billy Telfer get to his feet, just in time to avoid being   
stepped upon by Vorik, who fairly leapt out of the co-pilot's seat; Marla was   
already on her feet, courtesy of Lieutenant Kim. They stood looking at each   
other for several seconds without letting go of each other's hands before Icheb   
heard Marla whisper, "Take care, Lieutenant," and Harry's hushed, "Likewise,   
Ensign."  
Act three  
Marla felt miserable. How could they send Harry off again so soon, after what   
had just happened to him? And with Chakotay? That wasn't the best of omens for   
the success of a mission to request permission to radically change the agreement   
through which Voyager's crew had been permitted to remain on New Hope. That   
agreement had expressly forbidden Voyager's crew from mining anything at all   
from the soil of New Hope. Just because the four worlds controlling what they   
referred to as the "Treaty World" might have no clue concerning the true value   
of kolonder, it didn't follow they would allow it to be removed from New Hope.  
At least she had those forty minutes talking with Harry on the trip north,   
thanks to the commander's compassion in taking the helm. She wished Harry were   
going to spend the next few days with her at Tall Girl Mountain, or even if he   
would be able to pick them up in the Delta Flyer--or even the finally-repaired   
Copernicus--after they had established the mining camp. But no, Harry was going   
to be gone for at least the next four days. Someone else would have to pick up   
the team.  
The only good thing about Harry's not staying with her was that she wouldn't   
have to face The Question again. Harry had been very considerate of her   
reluctance to become intimately involved with him: he only asked her once a day   
now if she'd changed her mind. It was her own fault, she surmised. If she simply   
refused to see him any more socially, he was too much the gentleman to press her   
further. By maintaining their close friendship, she kept his hope for something   
more alive.  
Truthfully, she wasn't sure she really wanted to refuse him any longer.   
Actually, she didn't want to refuse him, but for his own good, she must. If   
Harry Kim were reduced to having to choose between his Starfleet career and   
virtually anything else, she was sure his career would win. Becoming involved   
with one of the infamous Equinox Five--or would-be-infamous, once they got back   
to the Alpha Quadrant and the Admiralty got hold of them--would be fatal to   
Harry's hopes for a successful career in Starfleet. She didn't want to force him   
to make that choice. Staying "just friends" was the best way. Really.  
Now, if she could only convince herself she was doing the right thing . . .  
After Harry helped her out of her seat, they had time only for a few whispered   
words to be careful before they were caught up in disembarking from the shuttle   
and unloading the team's supplies from the cargo compartments. Minutes later,   
the shuttle had sailed into space above their heads while the survey team was   
preparing to hike into Cleavage Valley--another of those very appropriate,   
slightly naughty names Tom Paris had managed to attach to a geological feature   
on New Hope, leaving the team to face the tedious, unglamorous task of setting   
up a base camp and planning a mining operation that caused the minimum amount of   
damage to the surrounding environment as possible.  
Marla shook herself free from her concern for Harry's safety long enough to   
notice Icheb's forlorn gaze after the shuttle. She remembered then that Icheb   
had been expecting to spend the next few days with Naomi. 'Poor kid,' Marla   
thought. He was finding out pretty quickly that not every job in Starfleet was   
as exciting as piloting a starship or mapping a new star system in Astrometrics.   
Some jobs simply needed to be done, so they were done. Simple as that.  
Even the boring jobs had some rewards, though--not the least of which was that   
boring was usually safe. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, thanks to her   
time on the Equinox. She'd also learned another lesson on that ill-fated ship   
that was affirmed, far more happily, during her time on Voyager: the value of   
working together and supporting each other through the hard times. It was time   
to put that particular lesson into practice once again, and since she had been   
placed in charge, she had the means to do it.  
"Vorik, Telfer, you buddy up," Marla called out. "Icheb, You're with me. Let's   
see how fast we can get camp set up so we can have a little fun. I'm in the mood   
for a hike in the wilderness! How about you?"  
As Icheb's shy smile appeared, she knew that this time, at least, she had   
certainly said the right thing.  
  
=^=  
  
"What's the matter, Cadet? Missing your partner in crime?" teased Joe Carey as   
he passed Naomi Wildman. She sniffed deeply in disgust as she pulled out another   
gelpack to examine and then smiled ruefully.  
"Maybe I'm sorry the only climbing I'm going to be doing this afternoon is   
through a Jefferies tube instead of up a cliff."  
"Can't have exciting adventures all the time. Sometimes you just have to roll up   
your sleeves and do the dirty work."  
"I guess so. These gelpacks aren't only dirty, though. They're icky!" As she   
reverted to the childish term, Naomi wrinkled her nose in distaste. The   
particular packs they were working on in this area were certainly "icky" as in   
"sticky," for several of their number in the lowest two decks of the ship had   
developed small ruptures as the ship had crashed. None had been completely   
destroyed, since the self-sealing skin system had generally worked well,   
preventing the loss of most of the viscous fluid within despite the way they'd   
been abused in the crash. What had spilled out, however, had attracted particles   
of dirt, dust, inorganic debris, and microorganisms of assorted types so that,   
between the way they felt and the way they smelled, the term "icky" described   
them pretty well.  
Since the ship depended upon the gelpacks to be in working order if it would   
ever arise again from New Hope, reconditioning them was not an option but grave   
necessity. Somebody had to do it. And today, one of those somebodies was Naomi   
Wildman, Freshman Cadet of Starfleet Academy (Distant Learners Program). For a   
day that had begun with the promise of adventuring on the northern continent,   
the way it had progressed was very depressing, to say the least.  
Still, she was getting class credits in Starship Maintenance and in Elementary   
Bioneural Circuitry Mechanics by cleaning up the mess the crash had left,   
checking each gelpack for damage and packing into small portable stasis chambers   
any that needed more than a simple surface cleaning and injection of   
antibacterial agents to recondition the fluid interior. Boring work, but vital   
to the ship, helping them all get one step closer to home. Everyone on Voyager   
wanted to get home, right?  
'Well, not exactly,' Naomi thought, glancing over at James Morrow, who was   
carrying one of the stasis chambers to the exit hatch to bring it to Sickbay. It   
was no secret the survivors of the Equinox weren't particularly eager to get   
back to the Alpha Quadrant. Some of the Maquis, it was rumored, were also cool   
to returning to a quadrant where the Cardassians, after causing the death and   
destruction of entire colonies and billions of lives, were again considered   
allies of the Federation.  
Naomi doubted anything bad would happen to any of them when they got home,   
though, and it would be so good to finally meet her dad. Her mom had done her   
best to speak to Naomi about him and make him into a real parent to her, even if   
he were so far away. The letters in the data stream had helped, but she still   
found it difficult to visualize him in any way other than the holographic images   
her mother had shown her. She missed not knowing how his laugh sounded, or even   
what his shaving lotion smelled like. There was so much more she wanted to know   
about him that she could only find out when they actually met. Still, she looked   
forward to introducing him to Icheb, even if his knowledge of her father wasn't   
much less than her own.  
It would be wonderful to have her family finally all together in one room, but   
there would be a price. All of these wonderful people working around her right   
now--Joe Carey, Neelix, Sarexa, Celes, Tabor, Murphy, Sue Nicoletti--they would   
scatter not just to the four winds, but to interstellar winds, at that. They   
were her family, too, and she would miss them as much, and maybe more, than she   
missed her father right now. After all, she knew all of them. She didn't really   
know her dad.  
At least by having Icheb as her husband--or fiance, if her parents insisted upon   
the old-fashioned, traditionally five-year long engagement (more like   
five-long-years engagement, Naomi thought)--she wouldn't be losing him. She   
couldn't bear to think of losing Icheb. She was sorry he didn't seem to feel the   
same way. There was no point in waiting around when she knew she's always love   
Icheb, and he would always love her. She could tell he was the faithful type.  
After returning the now-healthier and soon-to-be perfectly healed gelpack to its   
place in the circuitry, Naomi moved down the line to the next gelpack assigned   
to her. Before removing it from the circuit, she carefully wiped her hands clean   
with a special hygienic towelette developed by the Doctor. Discarding the   
towelette in the waste receptacle she carried, logically enough, wrapped around   
her waist, Naomi followed procedure and pulled out her tricorder to take a   
thorough scan of the gelpack before making any attempt to repair it.  
This one had suffered a greater degree of damage than most of the previous   
packs, only one of which she had needed to pack in stasis for a repair trip to   
Sickbay. This gelpack had lost more fluid, although it had also already healed   
itself to a greater degree than the others she'd seen, possibly because it had   
not become as dirty or fouled by microorganisms because it had been housed in a   
more protected place within the walls of the Jefferies tube. She wasn't sure   
this one needed to go to Sickbay, but she decided she should clean it up before   
making a final decision about whether or not it needed further treatment.  
Setting her tricorder down on the floor before her, Naomi removed the gelpack.   
The tricorder's telltale panel was within the range of her peripheral vision as   
she worked. That was why she had more warning than the others of what was going   
on above her, on Deck 11. An anomalous reading, chronicling the precipitous rise   
of theta radiation in the Jefferies tube, caught her attention.  
For a split second she wasn't sure what to do. Then instinct took over. She   
couldn't abandon the little gelpack to being washed with theta radiation without   
the protection of its circuitry housing. Cradling the gelpack to her like a   
little baby, Naomi stepped over to the portable stasis chamber and slipped it   
inside. As soon as the stasis chamber began to hum, Naomi grabbed it in one hand   
and pulled herself up the ladder, even as the echoes of her shipmates' voices   
echoed down the shaft.  
"Emergency! Radiation leak! All personnel vacate Decks 11, 12 and 13! Radiation   
leak! All personnel . . ."  
Epilogue  
A hemisphere away, at almost exactly the same time, Acting Ensign Marla Gilmore   
and her companion, Cadet Icheb, were crossing a section of Cleavage Valley where   
the path narrowed as it wound around a deep gorge, forcing them to tiptoe along   
the edge in single file. A sudden, sharp ground tremor rocked the ground and   
cracked the track from beneath their feet. To Icheb, it seemed as if time had   
suddenly fractured into such tiny segments that he could experience every second   
as if it were a minute. As he began to slide down the side of the gorge, he   
managed to catch hold of a protruding root and avoided a hard tumble down the   
side of the cliff.  
Seconds later, although clods of dirt continued to rain down upon his head, he   
opened his eyes to look for Marla. To his horror, he could see her sprawled ten   
meters below him, half-covered with debris. She was lying totally still.  
While a fall like this could cause serious injury to anyone, for Marla, it could   
be far worse. She had recovered only a few months before from a head injury that   
had left her comatose and near death for several days. Icheb had helped develop   
the therapy that eventually saved her life and mental capacities. Icheb   
remembered what the Doctor had said to Marla in Icheb's presence after her   
injury. "You must be diligent and avoid further injuries to the head if at all   
possible, Ms. Gilmore. Despite your recovery, you will be more vulnerable to   
serious concussions in the future."  
Without thinking of his own safety, Icheb released his hold upon the root and   
slid the rest of the way down the gorge on his stomach. As he hit bottom he   
twisted his left ankle, but he quickly discovered he was otherwise unhurt.   
Bending over Marla, he checked her condition. Marla was alive, but her pulse was   
weak and she seemed to be barely breathing. He was sure she had sustained a   
concussion.  
Hitting his comm badge, Icheb tried to contact Vorik and Telfer. Neither   
replied, even though the bandwidth of the message should have reached them   
easily and summoned them. The kolonder-laden dust floating in the air around him   
might easily hamper communications by comm badge, he realized, especially if   
they had gone underground to map their end of the valley, as they had planned.   
At least Icheb hoped that was all that had happened. He didn't want to think   
what an earthquake would do to anyone unlucky enough to be caught inside that   
cave system when it struck.  
Hitting his comm badge again, in as steady a voice as he could manage, Icheb   
called out, "Mayday, mayday! Voyager, this is Cadet Icheb. Ensign Gilmore has   
had an accident. She's been knocked unconscious from a fall. Request immediate   
medical assistance."  
For several agonizing seconds Icheb waited for a reply. He was about to hit his   
comm badge again when a crackling response erupted from his communicator.  
"Icheb, this is B'Elanna Torres. I'm in the Delta Flyer. Your signal is very   
weak. Do you read me?"  
"Yes, Lieutenant," Icheb said, intensely relieved. "Marla needs help."  
"I just contacted Sickbay. The Doctor ordered Tom and me to assist you. We'll be   
on our way as soon as he can get here. Sit tight. We'll be there in . . ."  
The whine of the transporter drowned out whatever else she said, but Tom's voice   
finished for her: ". . . about thirty minutes. Hold on, Icheb. We're coming."  
=^=  
TBC  
Decisions considered, decisions deferred, decisions made...  
and baby makes three. 


End file.
